Love At A Metro Station
by Boys Should Kiss Boys More
Summary: HotGear drabbles based on Metro Station's songs: Seventeen Forever, Wish We We Older, Shake It, and California. Rated M for a reason!


**Love At A Metro Station**

_(HotGear)_

**Seventeen Forever  
**

Richie let himself be pushed back, one hand linked with Frankie's. His still maturing body shook with inexplicable intensity, but he smiled, almost tearfully. This was what he had waited for. In return, Frankie had been waiting for his chance to pounce upon. the chance where this oh so obvious and vulnerable boy would give himself to the red-head.

They moved in sync together, not a moment of tense air or awkwardness. Only pleasure.

But, in the back residing of both teens mind, something kept them from really completing the job. Something telling them it was wrong. Nothing something about who they were with, or about their age, but, in general, what they were doing.

What they were going to do.

Hotstreak had said it once. That they weren't meant to be, and one more slip up, on and off the battlefield, away or near Virgil, they were going to end up together.

Once it had happened, once they were able to work past the thoughts and insecurities of their relationship, things had gone smoothly. Richie got over his fear of loosing it all to Frankie, and willingly pushed himself at the man.

Frankie despite his calm exterior, was scared shitless. He wasn't sure if Richie would ever change his mind, stay faithful to him, and in all honesty, the red-head didn't like how friendly Virgil and Rich could be. It made that hazardous green monster roar.

Richie was, a everyone knew, a genius. As opposed to Frankie, who was by no means dumb, but wasn't near as intelligent as the blonde. As their relationship was discovered, most everyone tried to convince the blonde that he couldn't find someone, anyone! much better that Hotstreak. Villain extraordinaire.

But they stayed together, ignoring the hatred their relationship apparently asked for; they'd forget all these things as Richie laid on Hotstreak's muscular chest, the red-head's big hand protectively covering Richie's chest, to feel his heartbeat.

Only Richie could do this to him.

Hotstreak, every time he stood at the doorway of Richie's bedroom, shivered at those words. Richie didn't want to lose what he came to consider the best man, person, thing, in his life. After their considerate 'I love you's and sweet loving kissed, Richie would always make sure the red-head would come back to him.

**Wish We Were Older  
**Hotstreak wasn't sure, just as unsure as Richie honestly, if they were ready for this.

Richie, despite so many fears, and so many rumors, danced and clung to his boyfriend. Things had spread like wildfire throughout their school, about Richie, and the infamous Hotstreak becoming significant others. Hotstreak always held him close though, and assured him that if anything or anyone tried to "Fuck up their relationship" he'd burn them to a crisp.

Richie found reassurance in that.

Hotstreak made Richie stare at him, to show him that the red-head was never going to leave, that he was always going to be tangible to the blonde. The red-head would wipe his rough hands across Richie's face, to wipe away those oh so hated tears. Richie would link his arms around Frankie's neck, and whisper over and over in Frankie's ear.

"I wish we were older.."

Even as Richie's father yelled and screamed at his child for being gay, and especially lectured him about sex, and how he was never to even touch that "imbecile!", Richie found himself being lured into sensuality by the convict.

Frankie would always come over when the Foley's were out; Richie would let him be won over by the best policy he could think of.

"Don't ask, don't tell."

Richie, despite his fears, was truly in need of Frankie. They had simply sat alone, naked, relishing each other's company, but not acting on anything. Every time, Richie wanted to say something, but at the same time hated to ruin the moment,

But now as that time he had made himself wait and work for.

Richie trusted Frankie with his life, heart, and body. Hotstreak never broke that trust. As he sat in the red-head's lap, his kissed him sweetly, and nodded, giving him to go-ahead.

Sweet and sour tears pouring down his soft face, Richie managed to confess something he had already said a million and one times; something he was sure to say many times more.

"I wish we were older!"

**Shake It**  
Hotstreak had slyly bribed Richie to take him to his empty home with promises of great sex and better love. Richie had, ignoring the fact he had the slightest cup of alcohol, allowed himself to be lead into such a situation. Richie now stood, kissing the villain fervently as his hand worked backwards to unlock the door, thankfully, Hotstreak helped him, taking the key, and unlocking the door and slowly pushing it open.

Richie shivered, even as the body heat of the older man rolled onto him in crashing waves. The convict in return, was thinking of so many sinful ways to take away the thing most pure of Richie's.

Richie felt that forbidden feeling rise in him again. Love. Love for such a dangerous man. Frankie resisted the dividing urges to either just fuck Richie senseless, or to take him gently, and sweetly coo his name.

The questions and possibilities raged in both teens minds. Richie moved one way, and Frankie had to retaliate passionately. And vice versa.

Richie's lips let a low whimper escape, and then they kept flowing from his mouth, one after another, with the ever so arousing moan thrown in. Frankie loomed over the willing blonde, ignoring the hand of the super-genius that sometimes twitched to throw the villain off, and flicked towards his clothes.

An ominous slam of a car door outside caused both to freeze, before Hotstreak began dressing himself, throwing clothes at Richie, and cleaning space in his closet.

They had actually ran into each other at a small-known bar. Reserved for those of different tastes. Hotstreak, in the darkness, saw someone vaguely familiar. only when they were grinding against each other did they realise just who it was. But, despite that, it didn't stop there. And here they were, staring intensely at one another.

Richie clung to Hotstreak's shirt after his parents had gone to sleep, willingly the red-head to finish the job. Frankie, after not so careful concentration, obliged. Richie shivered and shook as he was drowned by the waves of pleasure.

**California  
**One little-known thing about the villain was that he was an amazing guitar player. His face fell into a peaceful, concentrating smile, and Richie wanted to just kiss the relaxed lips always. Richie, another little-know fact, was a wondrous singer. Together, they were quite the musical pair. Hotstreak had talked many times about leaving Detroit, in search of a new beginning, or even just t get away from police for even the smallest of vacations. Richie promised, almost jokingly, to leave with him.

Hotstreak wanted the rip to be their trip; he decided no map, no phones, GPS, or technology besides the radio. They'd find the direction they needed to head in, and be on their own from there. Though Richie would've preferred a better, more well-though out plan, he went along with it. Richie could agree with Hotstreak, about not wanting to hear everything their friends and Richie's parents would lecture them about. How they needed to stay for the sake of school, how they shouldn't even be together for so long.

Richie began to doubt how well this would go, but he could always, literally always, be convinced to do anything, by Hotstreak. The blonde had issues with their past speed bumps, mole hills, and mountains in their relationship, but Hotstreak convinced him otherwise.

Richie tired to stay awake at all times with Hotstreak, both of them drinking energy drinks, and an unhealthy amount of fast foods, so as to get to California as fast as possible. They didn't tell a soul, just left their phones behind, and heading out into the setting sun.

Hotstreak would often link fingers with the blonde as they drove on a slow or deserted high way. Not to mention the little make-out sessions they shared when they decided to take a break from driving.

Hotstreak didn't mind watching the blonde's angelic face as he drove through the starry blue midnight. The radio blaring some unknown, unfamiliar station left a smile planted on both their faces.

The gas, and rushing wind intoxicated Richie, the excitement making him lightheaded, and lighthearted. He'd bo8nce in anticipation in his seat, and pouted childishly when Frankie laughed at him. Between spurts of the excitement, Richie would suggest they turn back, that they'd be in so much trouble when they did return home. Frankie would always dig out his cigarettes, and offer another one to Richie in false hope of calming him down.

Frankie never seemed to sleep, but in truth, he'd pull into a parking lot, sleep while Richie slept, and wake before he did, so as to keep up the illusion of constant driving. Richie slept most of the time. Unless sit was so bright, or too exciting not too.


End file.
